


Getting Caught in the Acid Rain

by DoreyG



Category: Escape | The Pina Colada Song - Rupert Holmes (Song)
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, F/M, Murder Gangs, Post-Apocalypse, Unhealthy Relationships, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been together for roughly ten years now. They had been arguing for roughly nine years, and three hundred and sixty four days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Caught in the Acid Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mtgat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtgat/gifts).



Three years post apocalypse, in an old abandoned wine bar, two people sat glaring at each other. One was a man with slicked back hair and a rather weasely look to him, the other was a woman with fake nails long enough to take an eye out and an air of intense concentration that she wore around herself like a cloak.

They had been together for roughly ten years now. They had been arguing for roughly nine years, and three hundred and sixty four days.

“You never remember,” the woman said, flicking her hair haughtily back from her eyes and fixing her boyfriend with an incredibly annoyed gaze, “three years into the apocalypse, two and a half years since those murder gangs started to roam the land, and you _still_ never remember where you put your ammo.”

“It’s not my fault,” the man said defensively, in a manner that practically screamed that he knew very well that it was his fault and would be fighting the point on stubbornness and nothing else, “if you just kept the place a bit cleaner-“

“If _I_ just kept the place a bit cleaner?” The woman replied archly, crossing her arms over her chest, “I thought we agreed that a post apocalyptic society was no place for outmoded gender roles?”

“You’re the one that said that,” the man huffed, again defensively, “I just-“

“Agreed!” The woman stated, with an air of triumph that was deliberately calculated to be the most obnoxious thing possible, “at great length! With quotes from feminist texts, and even a few diagrams! You deliberately stated that this was a new society, and that you were looking forward to developing it in a far more equal and pleasant way.”

“...Was I drunk at the time?”

“A little,” the woman said, unphased by this sudden challenge to her memory, “but, hey, maybe if you didn’t get drunk so often you wouldn’t misplace your ammo and I wouldn’t have to drive off an entire murder gang by myself.”

This was a good point, and the man recognized a trap in it. Panicking a little, his eyes wide, he tried desperately to go on the offensive again, “well... Well you like a drink too! Maybe you got drunk, and hid my ammo while you were drunk. Have you considered that, then? Have you?”

“That is the most absurd thing that I have ever heard,” the woman said flatly, unimpressed. But the magic of the words had done their work, a slightly dreamy look lingered in her eyes, “you know very well that when we get drunk together we end up banging against the one remaining wall and falling asleep immediately afterwards. It’s always been that way!”

“Before the apocalypse we had four walls,” the man pouted. But, at the dreamy look in her eyes, could not help falling into the reminiscent trap that had been laid, “do you remember that time, just before the apocalypse-?”

“When you responded to my personal ad?” the woman finished dreamily, and let out a bubbling laugh at the thought, “and only realized it was me when you turned up to the bar? How could I ever forget! God, we drank so many pina coladas that night.”

“And still managed to have sex for the entire weekend after,” the man said fondly, starting to beam at the very memory of it, “do you remember how loudly the neighbours banged on the wall? And how angrily they tried to complain afterwards, with leaflets and fist shaking and everything? It was _classic_.”

“Mm,” the woman sighed happily, and cheerfully shook her head, “It’s almost a pity that they died in the first shower of acid rain soon afterwards.”

“Eh, they were kind of dicks,” the man said brightly, having long ago resigned himself to being a terrible person and totally fine with that fact, “always stole the best parking spots. Hey, I think I still have some white rum left somewhere. Want to ambush the next passing murder gang and steal some of their pineapple juice?”

“...By myself?” the woman asked sweetly, after a long pause to consider the siren lure of alcohol, “while you continue whining about being unable to find any ammo?”

“ _Well_...”

“ _Typical_.”

And the argument started all over again, to the secret and rather masochistic relief of both.


End file.
